


Awkward

by Resistance



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:05:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I like Chase, I really do. It’s just that sometimes..... well, let me explain before you think I've found some Kyle-Busch-sized ego.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward

_ July 4, 2014.... _

“Kasey! Do you have a minute?”

I paused, mid-step. I did have a minute. I had a few minutes, actually, but I had planned to use them to relax before someone was going to need my attention. Had I been a better liar, I would have been able to spare myself the incredibly awkward situation that followed. Unfortunately, I’m a terrible liar so I didn't even bother trying.

“Yeah, sure. I was just heading back to--”

He cut me off, “Me too. I’ll come with you.” He was speaking so fast, I wondered just how many Red Bulls he’d managed to down before someone caught him and took them away. I couldn't help but think about meeting him when he was a little kid and I was driving part-time with his dad in that number 9 Dodge that caused me so much trouble back then. Chase was just as excited to be around the cars and the drivers then as he is now. But then, he was eight and it was cute. Now he was supposed to be one of us. And it was hard to see him as anything other than that eight year old.

I kept walking but nodded at him, letting him know he could come with me. To be fair, I was on his turf at the moment. Not Daytona, but this Nationwide race. That was his to run and mine to intrude on. But I knew I needed the restrictor plate practice and just doing runs alone wasn’t going to do it. I knew that there were fewer and fewer races left and I needed that win, which meant I needed all the practice I could get. I told myself that to make it feel less like I was taking spotlight away from guys like Chase whose series this was.

I let myself into my trailer and held the door for him. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, pausing at the fridge.

“Um.... sure. Whatever you have.” He looked around as if he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to sit. I waved at the couch, letting him know it wouldn't bite if it sat on it, which he did.

“I have Pepsi stuff, I don’t drink it, but God knows I have it. Water? Beer? No, wait, you’re not legal.”

Chase laughed, “I've had beer before. You know that.”

“I’m not contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“Oh come on! I don’t even _want_ a beer, but now I feel like I _have_ to have one.”

I handed him a bottle of water, “What did you want to talk to me about?” I sat opposite him, with a bottle of water in my hands.

“Oh.... yeah, I, uh, wanted some advice....” He shifted the bottle back and forth between his hands, focusing on that like it was a difficult task.

“Shave.”

He snapped his head up to look at me, “What?”

“You asked for advice. That’s what I have for you.” I smiled.

He rubbed his cheek, “It’s a style.”

“Yes, I know. And I know Brian McCann did it. But he’s a Yankee now so you can shave it.”

“Thanks, I do model my lifestyle choices after Braves. But that’s not what I was talkin’ about.”

I sighed. I knew that, but I was hoping to distract him, “Anything other than that, I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know. Daytona’s hard. You know that. Talladega, Daytona, it’s a whole 'nother kind of race. But you learn by doing. Just trust yourself.”

“Yeah.... but.... that’s not what I meant either....” I wanted to think it was a trick of the light or it was warm in the trailer, but I swear he was blushing.

“Then what do you mean?” I wanted to be confused by that. I was a lot less confused than I put out, but I wanted to be. I wanted to not know what he was talking about. Maybe, I thought, if I sounded confused enough, he’d lose his nerve and he wouldn't press the issue. But I knew him better than that. He wasn’t raised to back down. Unfortunately.

“Do you....” He gestured to one of the pictures hanging on the wall, “Are you and he....?”

I didn't have to look at the picture, I knew exactly which one he meant despite the fact that the wall had dozens of pictures on it. “Eric? We’re not....” It was hard to explain Eric. “It’s complicated.” I never wanted to use Facebook statuses to explain anything, but I didn't have a better phrase handy.

“Oh.” He chewed on his lip for a moment, seeming to contemplate something. I kept quiet, praying that he’d decide against it. But I haven’t had good luck in years. “So you’re.... single?”

“Yeah. I’m single.” _And fifteen years older than you_ , I wanted to add.

“So am I. And I was.... well, wondering.... do you think we could.... maybe go out some time?” He exhaled deeply, giving me a proud little smile. I couldn't help feeling a little proud of him too. I’m sure he practiced that more than a few times. He hadn't stuttered or mumbled too much. If he hadn't been asking me, I would have pat him on the back for getting it all out.

But he was saying it to me and now he was looking at me, waiting for an answer. I’m sure I was blushing, I know he was. I looked down at the water bottle in my hands and then wasted a few more seconds taking a long drink from it. Truth was, I was single and it had been a while since I.... had done things a non-single person does, if you get my drift. And while I would like to be with someone, an eighteen year old was not the someone I had in mind. And furthermore an eighteen year old that I had known since he was a kid.

“Chase....” I hadn't had time to practice so I was mumbling and stuttering a lot more than he had. “Did you want advice on that line?” I was hoping. I knew he didn't, I knew 'advice' had been an excuse, but I was still hoping.

“No. I just.... I wanted to ask you. I was hoping....” He looked down at his hands and his cheeks couldn’t have been redder if he had painted them. I had to put him out of his misery.

I took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I just---”

He cut me off quickly, “Oh. Forget I said anything. I’m sorry I even brought it up.” He looked like he wanted to throw up or get up and run out of my trailer or anything other than the sitting very still he was doing.

“It’s just that---”

“I know, I’m too young, right?” He frowned, as if that was quite possibly the stupidest reason to turn down a date that he had ever heard.

“Well.....” In truth, I felt like I was being asked out by that eight year old little boy that I walked in on making engine noises in the front seat of the 9 car.

“Yeah, I know.” He stood up, “Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

“Chase, you don’t have to go. And yes, I can pretend you never said anything.” I liked that idea a lot better than sitting down and talking about it. I would rather talk about anything else but that. “But stay. We can talk about the race. Are you hungry?”

He sighed, “Can I have a beer?”

I laughed a little, “No. But I’ll make you microwave popcorn.”

“That’s almost as good.”

“Almost?”

“Okay, it’s better. But no fair using prior knowledge about me.” He sat back down and I smiled. Nothing could lure eight-year-old Chase out of his dad’s car. It was always a huge argument to get him out so the crew could do their jobs. The only thing that worked every time was a bag of microwave popcorn. And ten years later, it still worked.

I tossed the packet into the microwave and turned to face him, “We are still friends, you know.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, “Good.”

“And maybe when you’re a little older--”

He cut me off with an embarrassed look, “Thanks. Don’t steal any of my popcorn.”

“I wouldn't dare.” I gave him a little laugh. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, at least we two were the only ones that knew it happened. At least he was smart enough not to try this in front of any of the other guys. I could pretend it didn’t happen, but they never would have let him forget it. I watched the microwave timer count down and the silence hung in the air.

Okay, it was going to be a _little_ awkward.

 


End file.
